The Story Changed
by Ridiculosity
Summary: Hamish was at sea where romance was concerned. And his parents don't help much in this regard, especially since nobody even knows when they started dating.


**Hey everyone. Fluffy bit of fluff. No plot, whatsoever, and a little more of Aubrey. ENJOY.**

 **For TheLittleSparrow, and InMollysWildestDreams**

* * *

It wasn't like Katie or Hamish hadn't asked them. It wasn't like the siblings hadn't developed strategies to get the truth out. But Mum and Dad proved unexpectedly wily when dealing with _this_ particular story.

"Of course _this_ is the one they would lie about," Katie had said derisively. "They can boast about their damn serial killers and beheaded nuns, but no one is willing to explain to us what was their first date."

Hamish had enjoyed speculating about it. Katie and Hamish had a game between themselves, of course. They invented the strangest date stories, in hopes to illicit reaction. Mum always gave an amused smile, while Dad maintained an impassive poker face.

"Maybe you guys lit a fire in parliament together," Katie had said. "Viva la anarchie!"

"Maybe they went for a movie and killed a few people," Hamish had suggested.

"Maybe you guys went inventing and created a portal to another dimension," Katie added.

"Maybe it happened in Italy, where Dad flew Mum for pizza."

And none of these suggestions hurried the truth along. Mum would simply tell Hamish and Katie to clear the table, and tell Dad to clear away his experiments.

The story changed every time _they_ told it, of course.

"We went scuba diving in Greece," said Mum, a very well replicated dreamy look on her face.

"It was when Molly singlehandedly solved a case involving a serial killer that dressed his victims up as fairytale characters," Dad would say while measuring a certain amount of phosphor.

"I think we got married for a case," Mum would frown, the tip of a spoon dipped in sorbet.

"We watched Pretty Woman at her flat with wine. Ghastly," Dad would say. "Although deducing outcomes of romantic comedies was fun, especially with Molly."

"Sherlock took me to the roof for fireworks during Bonfire night," said Mum, washing the dishes.

And none of these stories matched up to any sort of reality. Going by their tales, Hamish was conceived when neither of them had romantic intentions (a possibility he hadn't cancelled out), Katie was born while they were not together at all (a possibility _Katie_ didn't cancel out) and Abby Watson was not even conceived (something that made no sense at all).

Uncle John and Aunt Mary were not much in the name of stories. "I actually don't have any idea," said Uncle John, frowning. "I was more surprised than ever when they told me they were together, I could not comprehend beyond that."

Aunt Mary was a little more helpful. "I don't know the actual story, but I can guess," a shrewd glint was in her eye, and Hamish wondered if that was just the spy in her. "Sherlock and Molly probably just started off with sex." At this, Hamish had spat out whatever was in his mouth. "Aunt Mary!" he complained.

"Dear, you and I both know that you're probably more versed in these things than me."

"But we don't acknowledge that!" said Hamish.

"All right," begrudged Aunt Mary. "Well, I say that they just sort off fell together and didn't get out. And then you were born – conceived out of wedlock, actually – and here we are."

"Nobody knows when they had their first official date?" asked Hamish.

"Come on, idiotic brother," said Katie, perched on a counter. "Obviously not. It probably involved a few gruesome murders or something, and then they had sex on the table."

"Katie," said Hamish, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please."

Katie sniffed at him. "You got some of the brains and none of the gumption."

"You got all of the gumption and none of the brains."

"And yet my paper on Thomas' poetry was the one Oxford took."

"Who cares about Thomas?" said Hamish angrily. "I do better than you in Chemistry any day."

"Aubrey should really hear you talk like that," Katie pointed out.

At this, Aunt Mary gave a smile, wiping the dishes. "Aunt Mary, please!" complained Hamish.

"I said nothing!" said Mary.

"At least you have found a girl," said Abby Watson idly, flipping through a magazine. "Damn me if I ever find a girl."

"Oh, go on Abby," said Katie dismissively. "You're in college now! Lots of girls!"

"They all want to kiss me because girl on girl action is hot," said Abby, annoyed. "Nobody values the sanctity of relationships when a girl wants to kiss a girl."

"Darling, you need to give them a chance," said Aunt Mary. "And make sure they are fine with Artificial Insemination or something. I want grandchildren."

"Mother, I am not looking for children," said Abby, exasperated.

"It's never too early to start thinking, is all I'm saying."

"You'll find someone," said Hamish. "Don't worry about it. I think Aubrey might be able to help you –"

"That's right, go to your _girlfriend,"_ said Katie.

"Ha, ha," said Hamish dully. "What next, the sitting-on-a-tree routine?"

"Of course not," said Katie. "I'm more sophisticated than that –" she jumped off the counter, and stood, in perfect posture, ready to recite.

 _"_ _The village idiot does occasionally happen to be blessed_

 _And this one seemed to have had the best._

 _He met a red-headed belle, with freckles on her nose_

 _And did not have the sense to give her flowers, not even a rose._

 _And yet she was keen on him – a mistake on her part, obviously,_

 _And with a little magic, a little redness, and a little potion whisked,_

 _Sitting on a tree, they kissed."_

Aunt Mary and Abby Watson clapped, while Hamish glared sourly. "How long did that take you?" he asked.

"I just made it up," said Katie brightly.

* * *

The lack of insight into his parents' relationship was probably what had made Hamish hopeless in the field of love. The only thing he knew was that to them, number of conquests mattered not at all. Apart from that, Hamish could see from observation that they valued each other for their mentally connected ways more than anything else.

He did not often see them kissing, but he had seen it occasionally. He was three when his father had hugged his Mum and kissed her, after she had escaped from a shoot-out at Barts. In times of extreme distress, he did see them exchange affection beyond witty banter and sparkling eyes.

Mum was more open, of course. And he knew their secret 'thing'. She always touched the tips of his fingers gently, on the table, when calming him down. Some absurd reference, but he never questioned. Katie would have, because she had no sense of privacy.

Which was why by the time Aubrey came into his life, Hamish was as unversed in love as his Dad probably was when Uncle John entered his.

"And, he's lost into the abyss again," said Aubrey brightly.

Hamish blinked at her.

She smiled at him, amused. "You know, I know you're thinking about me naked, but you needn't do it in such an open environment."

Hamish went a deep red as the History teacher continued to talk. "I wasn't –"

"I'm sure," she said with a wink, tossing her red-orange hair back.

"Aubrey!" he exclaimed.

"Hamish, baby?"

"Don't!"

"I didn't do anything. You were the one turning red. You were blushing worse than my hair, and that's saying something."

Hamish glared at her.

"God, even flirting with you is a bore. You're a bore," she said, gathering her books as class was dismissed. Hamish's stomach leaped inside his body. A second later, he registered something more important than her flirting with him.

"I'm a Holmes. Holmes people aren't bores," said Hamish.

"And yet you're not focusing on me flirting with you," said Aubrey, her eyes twinkling. Her hair went another way, and Hamish had to concentrate on her freckled face. "And here I was, diligently making notes on the world war. The colonies really started out on a good angle, don't you think?"

Momentarily distracted, Hamish jumped from his desk to follow her. "Well, yes. I wonder what caused them to be the way they were during the 2000s?"

"That's simple. The cold war. You see Hamish, unlike you, people pay attention to history, and have figured out that America was a mess simply because of their bravado – very much like the bravado of your father, if I say so. He's a drama queen, don't you know?"

"I have heard that one," said Hamish, trying to keep up with her thought process and her pace.

"And the whole of the cold war was a large penis competition," said Aubrey happily, dodging people in the halls with remarkable ease. "And in the 2000s, America has taken way too much Viagra, so their penis was unhandled-able. So large, that they thought it was small. Which is awful, because this means more Viagra, and that means more republicans in parliament. I'd say they started something good when marriage equality was granted everywhere."

"Where do you even come up with all this?" asked Hamish, annoyed.

"Annoyed because I made sense?" asked Aubrey, eyes twinkling.

"Yes. No! You're the one disarming me with flirting!" said Hamish.

"You're the one getting disarmed," returned Aubrey, grinning. "I don't get flustered when _you_ flirt with me."

"I don't flirt with you!" said Hamish.

"Really?" she asked, her eyes glinting. "'Aubrey, where do you even understand History from?' 'Aubrey, black looks nice on you.' 'Aubrey, -oh, um. You look, - erm – really nice. I, well – um, what did you think of my sister's paper on Thomas?' 'Aubrey, could you help me with this experiment?'"

"That's not flirting!" said Hamish. "I mean, some of it –"

"It's your version," said Aubrey, turning around abruptly, to face him. The crowd around them ignored them, but Hamish desperately tried to find somewhere else to look. Their noses were way to close, and he could see the freckles splashed everywhere. "Why are you flustered now, Hamish?"

Hamish backed away. "Why don't _you_ get flustered?"

"Unlike you, I _know_ I like you," said Aubrey. "I don't deny that I have a crush on you. I'm only waiting to see how long it will take for you to snap."

This caused Hamish a small heartattack. He panicked, took a deep breath and watched as she continued smiling.

"He's snapped," she said cheerfully.

"You –"

"Yes," said Aubrey serenely.

"I –"

"Oui," she said gently. "Now don't be a drama queen, in the throes of love. I'm sure you saw how badly that worked for your Dad. Ask me out."

Hamish took a few more deep breaths. "Are you free this Saturday?" he asked, finally.

"Absolutely. Text me a place, and I'll see you then, lover boy."

"I am not –"

"Your sister's poetry would disagree," she said merrily, heading off to class.

* * *

Hamish had decided, with absolute certainty that he was not going to ask his parents to help him _at all._ In light of his recently exposed lack of knowledge of flirting, he felt that it was fair of him to not ask his Mum and Dad to tell him where to take Aubrey for a first date, especially since Mum and Dad's first dates spanned an endless array.

And he wasn't keen on this turning into a serial killer case.

His family, however, wasn't known for privacy.

It came as no surprise to him when Katie would smile sadistically and drop more references to Aubrey than ever. Katie didn't smile a lot, and when she did, it was almost always because she was enjoying someone else's discomfort. A little like Aubrey, except Aubrey seemed to be genuinely happy instead of sadistic.

His Mum had taken to sighing happily every now and again whenever she saw him. He didn't understand how a woman who could prove murder in less than fifteen minutes had such a penchant for romance. He'd heard Aunt Mary and Mum giggling together in 221C, and he was sure he knew what it was about.

Dad wasn't a lot better. He faced Hamish in his chair, saying "sit," as if Hamish had committed murder. "You're taking a young lady out?" asked Dad.

"Yes," said Hamish nervously.

"Do you really think you should begin dating someone with such scattered thoughts?" he prodded.

"Mum dated you," said Hamish boldly.

"Oho," said Katie from the kitchen. "Nice one."

Dad frowned at Katie. "Your Mum is a different instance," he said. "Very well, if all of you must insist on dating –"

"Come on, Dad," said Katie, pouring herself a glass of water. "David isn't that bad –"

"Irrelevant," said Dad. "You insist on romantic attachments –"

"As do you," said Katie evenly.

"I took my time about it," said Dad.

"Which was why Mum almost slipped out of your fingers," said Katie.

Dad glared at them. "The least you could do would be to ask advice!"

The two siblings blinked at him. "Isn't it traditional to ask parent's for romantic advice?" grumbled Dad.

"Asking you and Mum for romantic advice would be like hitting yourself on the foot with a hammer, while the hammer was on fire," Katie retorted. She put a pan on heat, beginning to make tea.

"Molly!" he said loudly. "I don't like your children!"

"Well, they are yours too," said Molly from inside the room.

"Dad, I'm really sorry I didn't ask you or anything," said Hamish fairly, "But I'm not sure if I want to, especially since we don't even know what _your_ first date was."

Katie looked behind expectantly from the stove.

"That's nothing," said Dad dismissively. "We went bowling."

"Really?" asked Katie. "Hey Mum, where did Dad take you on your first date?" yelled Katie.

"We went dancing, and the instructor happened to have been a murderer. It was fun!" yelled Mum back from inside the room.

Katie raised her eyebrows at Dad.

"So you see," continued Hamish. "I'd rather not have murders or anything."

He vanished away, to his room. Katie gradually went downstairs, to talk to Abby about something.

"You know, Sherlock," said Molly, emerging from the room, "I wonder what they'd think if we told them the truth."

"They wouldn't believe us, at this point," said Sherlock. "The amount of data we have given them would nullify the effect of the truth."

"And either way, they'd think it was terribly out of character of you to have dinner with me inside the Big Ben," said Molly.

"You make it sound more glamorous than it was. I just had to call Mycroft, it just so happened –"

"I know, darling. It was only meant to be a dinner which just morphed magically –"

"Molly!"

"I love you too," said Molly with a smile. She kissed him. "I'm glad they've grown up. We can be less careful."

"You didn't have as bad a time as me," said Sherlock. "I was not fully used to my sex drive when you decided to get pregnant with Hamish, not to mention the fact that we never got time for each other during his baby age."

"Katie was a lot better though," said Molly.

"Well, she's not good now. Hamish is easier to handle."

"I wonder where he's taking her?"

"He's being very careful. I have deduced ice-skating, though."

"Sounds lovely. David took Katie to a second hand book-store, you know?"

"I do," said Sherlock dourly. "That boy –"

"Sherlock –" said Molly reprimandingly. "Fine," said Sherlock. "What story should we tell them next?"

* * *

"Hi," said Aubrey, opening the door. She looked really pretty, in a black sweater and jeans. Hamish blinked for a few seconds and opened his mouth, before she said "I know."

As they walked up to the skating rink, Aubrey said, "Are we going somewhere not boring? I can't distract myself with you for long, you know?"

"Funny," said Hamish.

"You seem worried," she said.

"Hoping, mainly, for no murders," he said, wearing his skates.

A man crashed squarely into a wall, and Aubrey stifled a giggle. "Well, you said _murders_ specifically. Nothing about someone getting maimed." Hamish sighed.

* * *

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